


False Edge

by leslieknopedanascully



Category: Black Sails
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-23 22:23:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17088845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leslieknopedanascully/pseuds/leslieknopedanascully
Summary: The morning sun, hanging low in the sky, cast a gentle light on the cliffs on the western edge of Maroon Island. Despite the soft sunlight and the mild morning breeze, the two men sparring on grassy patch near the edge of the cliff were sweating as if they were under the blaze of the midday sun. The waves crashing against the rocks sounded as quiet as a murmur compared to the clang of the men’s swords.“You’re watching my eyes again,” Flint said, and Silver wondered at how he could enunciate so clearly when Silver was doing well just to breathe, much less utter a coherent syllable. They had been going at this since the sun had begun to crest the horizon, and Silver was weary, to say the least.





	False Edge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lacrimabilis_Umbra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacrimabilis_Umbra/gifts).



The morning sun, hanging low in the sky, cast a gentle light on the cliffs on the western edge of Maroon Island. Despite the soft sunlight and the mild morning breeze, the two men sparring on grassy patch near the edge of the cliff were sweating as if they were under the blaze of the midday sun. The waves crashing against the rocks sounded as quiet as a murmur compared to the clang of the men’s swords.

“You’re watching my eyes again,” Flint said, and Silver wondered at how he could enunciate so clearly when Silver was doing well just to breathe, much less utter a coherent syllable. They had been going at this since the sun had begun to crest the horizon, and Silver was weary, to say the least.

Flint lunged forward, but Silver anticipated his attack and blocked it with a grunt. Silver then returned the attack, and, seeing an opening in Flint’s defenses, he jabbed at his opponent and the blade of his sword lightly touched Flint’s abdomen.

“Good,” Flint said.

Before Silver had the chance to properly relish his victory, he felt the cool metal of Flint’s blade hit his wrist and his sword clattered to the ground.

“Don’t let your guard down,” Flint admonished.

“I _killed_ you!”

“You wounded me, yes, but I hardly think that blow would have slain me. Even if that had been a death blow, you must always be prepared to anticipate another attacker. Come on,” Flint nodded at Silver’s fallen sword, “Again.”

“ _Again?_ Haven’t I earned a bit of a break?”

“Oh, all right.”

As soon as the two men plopped down next to each other began to gulp down the water in the leather flask he carried with him.

“You’re going to give yourself a cramp,” Flint said.

“My leg has been cramped all week from walking up this fucking hill every morning. I hardly think I’ll even notice a cramped stomach.”

Flint said nothing, but gestured for Silver to swing his leg up on his lap. Silver did so, and Flint pushed up Silver’s pant leg and began massaging his calf. Silver sighed at the relief Flint’s strong fingers brought. He closed his eyes and welcomed the salty sea breeze as it cooled his sweaty skin.

Flint was a relentless tutor and the daily walk up that damn hill was hell itself, yet those mornings with Flint on that cliff would always hold a tender spot in Silver’s memory.    

 

When the sun reached the highest point in the cloudless afternoon sky, Flint and Silver had long since finished their training for the day and were resting under the shade of their favorite tree on the edge of the Maroon camp. Flint leaned against the trunk of the tree, thumbing through a book, sometimes reading passages aloud to discuss with Madi, who sat beside him. Silver’s head rested in Madi’s lap, eyes closed, a whistling snore escaping his lips every so often.

Madi absentmindedly ran her hands through Silver’s hair, twirling his curls around her fingers. She began to grow restless and her hands wandered away to the flowering bush behind her as she picked its blooms. The flowers were a vibrant red, the petals striped with yellow. She began weaving them into Silver’s hair, his greasy curls holding the stems firmly in place. Flint, when he looked up from his book and saw Madi’s work, began to laugh. Madi shushed him, holding a finger to the conspiratorial smile on her lips.

“He’s dead to the world, isn’t he?” Flint said, peeking over the edge of his book at Silver.

Madi tucked a flower behind Silver’s ear.

“This is _your_ doing,” she said. “He falls asleep every afternoon since you started helping him with his fighting skills. Yesterday he fell asleep sitting up. What do you have him doing out there? Climbing the cliffs?”

“We are only working on improving his swordsmanship.”

“Surely he’s not that bad with a sword?”

“He can hold his own, certainly. But he fights like a clever animal fending off a predator. He fights to survive, and while that’s gotten him this far, the war ahead of us will be a hard one and I just worry….”

Flint’s words trailed off, he looked away from Madi towards the sliver of ocean visible through the foliage.

“I understand,” Madi said.

Flint turned to Madi and gave her a small smile.

“But perhaps I can go a bit easier on him. If only so he can spend his afternoons with you. Doing something other than sleeping in your lap, that is.”

A sudden breeze blew a red flower petal from Silver’s hair onto his nose. He stirred, but did not wake. Madi carefully removed the petal, studying his face as she did.

“No,” she said. “You are right. Whatever comes next will be hard, and he must be ready for it. Do not let me stand in the way of his training.”

Flint nodded.

Moments later, Silver awoke from his slumber. His hands immediately went to his hair, his face contorted in confusion as he tried to discern what was stuck in his curls.

“What the hell?” he muttered, pulling a flower out of his hair. His confusion faded away when he saw Madi, her head thrown back against the trunk of the tree as she laughed at him.

Laughing as well, Silver tucked one of the flowers behind Madi’s ear and kissed her.

 

As dusk cast its shadow on the Maroon camp, Silver was on the beach, crutch tucked under his arm, sword in hand, practicing the strategies Flint had taught him against an invisible opponent. He did not hear the footsteps coming up behind him, so the sound of someone speaking to him made him jump.

“Not bad,” Flint said.

Silver could just barely make out the small smile on his face.

“Madi and I have been looking for you,” Flint continued. “Happy as I am to see you practicing, don’t you think it can wait for tomorrow?”

Silver twirled his sword, a grin spreading across his face.

“I’m practicing _for_ tomorrow. I plan on besting you again.”

Silver would never admit the true reason for his nighttime practice was that he had heard Flint and Madi earlier that afternoon, had heard the concern in their voices as they discussed his fighting ability. That with each day that passed, the war that the three of them were hurtling toward felt more and more real. And that the reality of that war terrified him.

 “ _Again?_ ” Flint arched an eyebrow, edging closer to Silver. “I don’t recall you besting me a first time.”

Silver placed a hand on Flint’s abdomen.

“Don’t you remember? You have a gaping wound here.”

“I told you,” Flint said, leaning into the gentle pressure of Silver’s hand, his face a breath away from Silver’s, his voice a biting whisper. “you didn’t kill me.”

With a tickling light touch, Flint put his hand on Silver’s stomach, just a bit higher than where Silver had struck Flint that morning.

“ _Here_ would have killed me.”

He slowly dragged his hand up, up, up towards Silver’s wildly beating heart.

“Or _here_. Or…”

Flint traced a path from Silver’s heart up his collarbone until his hand cupped Silver’s neck.

“… _here_.”

“I’ll remember that,” Silver said.

“I’m sure you will.”

Flint pulled Silver towards him, his hands now tangled in Silver’s hair as their lips met for a long, sweet kiss.

 

           

**Author's Note:**

> Note on the title: a "false edge" is the back edge of the sword that is not intended to cut. (source: https://www.lisashea.com/lisabase/writing/medieval/swords/glossary.html)


End file.
